Out Of Your Jurisdiction
by ToryTigress92
Summary: Carry on of 'The Chase Begins'. Annabelle works for MI7 and must steal some incriminating documents from AD1 but how will she fare against an old friend who isn't about to let her go?


**Out Of Your Jurisdiction**

**I've got a whole series of oneshots for these two. So enjoy!**

* * *

Annabelle smirked as she filed in with the rest of the air headed bimbos, passing into dark tunnels underneath the headquarters of AD1.

She had been working for MI7 for a year, thanks to Kelly's recommendation. It kept her safe from Pomfrey at least, and his matrimonial fixation.

Her latest mission was to infiltrate the headquarters of AD1 and retrieve a certain document in their possession, a document which could bring down the government and the second female Prime Minister.

Of course, her prior knowledge and contact with AD1 made her the best agent for the job.

So she had waited for the annual secret gathering of the AD1's elite. No one knew what went on in their hallowed halls during the night, but Annabelle was going to find out.

Everyone wore masks, and she was no exception. Hers was in gold, with tiny rubies dotting the line of the eyes, and the cheeks. Her dress was a flowing red velvet, dotted with tiny gold beads, her long hair loose down her back.

Her plan was to infiltrate the party, slip away and steal one of the robes for camouflage, to penetrate the inner sanctum, then swipe the documents and get out.

The documents were in Pomfrey's quarters, at the top of the AD1 tower.

But of course to penetrate into the inner sanctum, and into Pomfrey's quarters would need…a little inside help. Not that said help would be aware they were helping her.

An anticipatory smile dawned on Annabelle's lips as she flicked her invitation into the guard's hands and sailed inside.

Inside the atrium was awash with candles, the light glittering off the jewelled throats of women, and the robes of the men. Wine was flowing freely, and raucous laughter filled the room.

As Annabelle milled with the other guests, keeping one eye on the clock, a familiar flash of heat down her spine warned her a split second before a familiar voice drawled in her ear.

"And who might you be, Miss…?" Pomfrey murmured in her ear seductively, as she quelled a shiver and turned around with a flirtatious smile.

"Miss Cartwright. Or rather Lady Cartwright, I should say," she replied, smiling falsely. From the look in Pomfrey's eyes, he clearly didn't know who she was.

Thank God.

"My pleasure, Lady Cartwright. I take it your husband isn't here tonight?" he murmured in her ear, as the crush of guests forced them together.

That was when it all went wrong.

The instant their bodies collided, Annabelle knew he recognised her. How could his body not recognise hers, even if it had been a year since they had last been together?

How could she help her reaction to him, when she felt his taut body stretched against hers?

Pomfrey's eyes widened, and his arms automatically slid around her waist. Annabelle's red lips parted and throbbed, already aching for his kiss.

"Annabelle…." he growled, the crowd beginning to ease slightly. "I'd know that delectable body anywhere."

Uh oh.

"Pomfrey!" someone called his name, distracting him momentarily, giving Annabelle the chance she needed.

Without a second thought, she jerked her knee up into his groin, shielded from sight by the crowd of guests. With a groan of pain, eyes watering, he sank to his knees as Annabelle leaned down, and kissed his cheek.

"Sorry, darling," she murmured, before she hurried off, Pomfrey's hoarse "Stop her!" almost making her giggle.

* * *

Annabelle made it out of the hall, and into the corridors she remembered from her last little trip here. Walking quickly down the hall, past the flaming torches in their wall brackets and stone masonry.

Inwardly she rolled her eyes. Trust a misogynistic, backwards society like AD1 to have such medieval décor.

"Hey you! Stop!" a voice suddenly called from behind her, and she did so. Plastering an innocent smile on her face, she turned, her mask still snugly in place.

"Ohmigod, I am like so sorry!" she squealed, putting on an American accent. "I got lost on the way to the…loo? Is that what you guys call it?"

"You shouldn't be down here," the robed guard told her sternly, walking up close to her, at which Annabelle inwardly smirked.

"Oh I'm really sorry. I'm so stupid, I just got lost," she fluttered her eyelashes at him, stepping close, and giving him her best cutesy smile.

"Well, maybe I'll overlook it. Just this once," the guard softened, smiling down at her condescendingly. Biting her lip, wondering if it would work on him the way it did on Pomfrey, she stretched up on her toes.

"Thanks so much for this, and for this," she breathed, as he bent his head, but she kneed him in the groin. With a groan of pain he sank to his knees, and Annabelle despatched him with a quick jab to the side of the head.

"Thanks awfully," she drawled, in a way reminiscent of Pomfrey himself, as she tugged him into an alcove, stripped his robes and slid into them herself. Checking her mask was still in place, she smiled evilly as she stepped out in the corridor again.

"Men are so dumb," she muttered, as she walked unhurriedly down the corridor, safe inside her disguise.

Annabelle made it through the deserted inner sanctum, and almost to Pomfrey's quarters before she ran into her first problem.

The door to Pomfrey's quarters was code locked, and she bet only one person knew how to get inside.

With a smile and an anticipatory shiver, she turned to run as an alarm blared and the sound of running feet echoed down the corridor.

Time for Plan B.

* * *

Annabelle made it into the main meeting room, when she was cornered and surrounded by several members of AD1. The lamps and incense hung heavy on the air, almost making her sneeze, as she pretended to be frightened, inwardly smiling.

Right on target.

Her hood was whipped back, and her mask ripped off.

Astounded gasps reverberated around the room, as she smiled.

"Hello boys," she breathed, as murmurs of "She's a girl!" and "What the!" echoed around the hall.

She noticed one member shifting uncomfortably. "Hi Daddy," she waved coyly, smirking at his obvious discomfort. Another wave of whispers rippled through the assembled men, as they parted like the Red Sea to Moses.

"She is known to us," Piers Pomfrey strode through the group, his robes billowing behind him. It made Annabelle catch her breath. "Meet Annabelle Fritton, former Head-Girl of St Trinian's School for Young Ladies!"

"Hi," she waved casually, as outraged whispers erupted in the hall.

"Leave this one to me," Pomfrey murmured seductively, taking her arm and yanking her away, towards his private rooms. Annabelle hid her satisfied smirk.

* * *

"Don't you know its bad manners not to call ahead, Annabelle?" Piers drawled as they walked into the plush interior of his private rooms, at the top of the tower, as Annabelle took in her surroundings. They consisted of a large living area with a stone hearth and comfortable sofas scattered across the room, the walls decorated with ancestral paintings and the occasional photograph. A desk stood in the corner, the light of the fire flickering over its mahogany surface. The vaulted ceiling was crisscrossed with wooden beams. A row of medieval glass windows dominated one wall, offering an idyllic view of nighttime London.

"And here I thought I'd just surprise you," Annabelle smiled, wrenching her arm away from his grip and gliding to one of the windows. Piers watched her intently, her long robes sweeping behind her as she walked, the soft lights of the wall sconces making her loose hair gleam.

"It's been what…? A year since we last saw each other? I find that very unlikely," Piers scoffed, leaning on the doorframe casually. "Not very good behaviour from one's fiancée."

"I told you Piers, I am _not_ your fiancée," Annabelle sighed wearily, leaning her head on the cool glass.

"You know, after you disappeared for a year, I did get rather worried," Piers continued, ignoring her protests, sliding off his robes as he walked towards her.

"I'm touched," Annabelle muttered, still not moving as she watched him come closer in the window's reflection.

"So now I wonder," he continued, his voice lowering huskily as he drew close. "Why you've reappeared, quite literally dropped into my lap."

"Wonders will never cease," Annabelle replied unhelpfully, not meeting his eyes in the window.

"Well, then I'll just have to get the information out of you another way, m'dear," he breathed, sliding his arms around her waist, and pulling her back against him.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again, after so long," she whispered coyly, stretching back into his arms like a cat, bringing her red lips close to his. Pomfrey eyed her sceptically, trying to ignore the hot flashes of pleasure rippling through his frame as she shifted against him.

"_**That **_I highly doubt, darling," he sighed mock-sadly, smirking when he felt Annabelle's snort of amusement. She turned around in his hold, and twined her arms around his neck, brushing his lips seductively.

"You know what I am, darling. You had me followed for the first six months," she murmured, playing with his silver hair. He glared at her darkly, eyes searching hers, when he remembered.

"Ah, so the rumours are true. You're MI7, the all-woman intelligence agency. Then I know what you're here for," he drawled suggestively, his hands sliding down her body and clenching around her hips, hauling her hard against him.

Annabelle laughed, a flush already rising in her cheeks. "And you'll know I'll get it. I always get what I want," she breathed against his lips, before she kissed him, softly at first; then harder and more urgent when she felt him respond. She ran her hands through his hair, groaning as he ground his hips against hers, before he started to walk her backwards.

The next thing she knew, he had tumbled her onto her back, on the rug beside the warm fire, its heat washing over her like a bath. Gasping at his weight on top, his hips settled between her thighs, she arched as he wrenched from her lips and began to kiss a path down her body, worshipping her through the velvet and clinging silk of her dress.

"You know I could arrest you for unlawfully holding a government agent hostage," she breathed, biting her lip as he lingered torturously over her navel, his tongue slipping into the small indent through the fabric.

Piers raised his head, a lusty gleam evident in his cold eyes. "I rather think you're out of your jurisdiction right now, darling."

"Oh shut up with all the innuendoes and kiss me," she rolled her eyes, reaching for him but he evaded her hands and sat up. He watched her darkly, silver hair ruffled and one eyebrow cocked arrogantly.

"You, young lady, are about to learn who is truly master around here," he growled, shrugging off his suit jacket and undoing his tie.

"Not still on about all that misogynistic, men-are-better-than-women crap are you?" Annabelle sighed impatiently, but before she could touch him, he clasped both of her wrists in his hand, and rapidly tied them together with his tie. She blinked, as he forced them up above her head, and began to pull the robes she wore off.

"Always knew you were one for bo-mmph!" Annabelle began teasingly, but with a forceful kiss from Pomfrey, she broke off. She gave up fighting and moaned, her head arching up to track his lips when he released her.

"Shut up," he growled, before devouring her neck possessively, leaving behind a trail of red marks on the flushed skin, raising his hands to the straps of her dress.

And stopped when he realised his problem.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, as she expertly wriggled free of the yard of silk holding her wrists, and sat up on her elbows. "Well that lasted," she snorted sarcastically, sliding the straps of her dress down herself. "Why must you always insist on all or nothing? Is the prospect of a partnership too scandalous to consider?" she murmured, arching upwards to meet his lips, her hands sliding over his body. Piers' eyes darkened, as he lowered her back to the rug, the expanse of her bare shoulders and collarbone gleaming in the light from the fire.

"That particular route is becoming more and more appealing, if it means I can have you," he breathed, before taking her lips passionately, holding her to him with all his strength. "I need you so much, my sweet Annabelle."

Speechless, sceptical of his sincerity, Annabelle did nothing except to reach up and pull his lips back to hers, moaning in pleasure when his confident hand slid between their bodies and began to guide her dress down, while her nimble fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt.

They stripped each other slowly, making each other moan as they re-explored thoroughly. Annabelle's cry of ecstasy shivered on the air when he slid into her, punctured by Piers' animalistic groan.

Annabelle never broke eye contact with her lover as he drove her insane, always bringing her to the peak of pleasure but never allowing her to tumble over into bliss. She knew why, knew that when they did, she would leave him again and their little game of cat and mouse would continue.

Her smirk was interrupted again as she moaned, before Piers covered her lips with his, drinking in the sound before he moved back, Annabelle sitting up with a disappointed noise.

"Turn over," he growled, his voice hoarse and shaking from his control, or lack of. Suppressing an excited shudder, she did, the rough material of the rug brushing the smooth skin of her abdomen. She felt his fingers brush away the hair at her nape, before she felt his lips against the skin. His hand curled over her wrists, holding them up by her shoulders, restraining her. "Look at the flames. Watch them, see how they burn," he whispered into her skin, as she obediently turned her head to look at the flames.

Trying to ignore the flames rising under her own skin, at the touch of his body, as he kissed and suckled his way down her spine, making her breathing hitch and yearning moans pour from her lips. When he finally took her, sliding her back flush against his hips she cried out and arched her spine but quickly realised she had no control in this particular position.

He held all the power this time, and she gave it up to him.

Piers felt her do it, smiled grimly as he flexed into her body, gritting his teeth at the feel of her around him. He watched her as he made love to her ruthlessly, watching the firelight caress her sweaty skin, radiating off her chestnut curls.

"Don't take your eyes off the fire," he breathed, as her lashes fluttered, and she bit her lip. Feeling his control quake, he lowered himself over her, tangling their legs together and planting a hungry, open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder before turning her lips to his. He kissed her tenderly just as he thrust deep into her body. She cried out beneath him, as he felt his own release shudder through his body.

Blindly he rolled to the side, holding his Annabelle close, as they both panted for breath, exhaustion taking over. He just about found the strength to flip their discarded robes over their cooling bodies before he fell asleep.

* * *

Annabelle awoke hours later, to the sight of the fire dying and the first rays of sunlight beginning to stream in through the windows. Carefully she edged out from under Piers' arm, grabbing her dress and shoes before sliding into them quickly. Darting a glance at Piers, she searched for the documents, absolutely point blank refusing to relive what had happened in the last eight hours.

But the inescapable fact was she could have just knocked Piers out after he'd dragged her in here. It hadn't been part of the plan to sleep with him, not part of the plan at all.

With a shudder, she forced those memories away and rapidly found what she was looking for. The incriminating documents were hidden away on a computer chip as well as in hard copies, which she took the liberty of burning before slipping the chip into her bra, so it nestled between her skin and the cup.

"And here I thought you liked bad girls, Piers," she whispered to herself, however she jumped out of her skin when he answered in his customary drawl.

"Oh I do, except when said bad girls start rummaging around in my business," he murmured behind, and she turned to find him awake, lying with his hands folded behind his head casually, watching her through those gleaming brown eyes.

"Sorry darling, but we can't have you bringing down the government. You should take up a new hobby-how about fishing?" she quipped, standing and backing away as he stood and began to stalk her back towards the row of windows.

"Give me back the chip, Annabelle. You're not escaping me this time," he growled, glaring at her. She smirked, and simultaneously pressed a small button on the inside of her bra, pretending to be reaching for the chip.

"Who said I was running away? I'm just doing my job," she replied archly, cocking one eyebrow as a soft _blipping_ noise started, slowly getting louder and faster.

"What is that?" Piers demanded, anger beginning to bleed through now, as Annabelle smiled, refusing to look lower than his chin.

"My ride," she told him. "If I were you, I'd put on some clothes. It's about to get a bit draughty in here."

The window behind her exploded outwards as a rappelling hook latched onto the window. In the confusion, Annabelle hopped out and attached herself to the cable via a small loop hidden in her dress, and slid down the rope, landing directly behind a motorcycle that had pulled up, its driver's visor sliding down to reveal the eyes of Kelly Jones.

"See you later honey!" Annabelle called, saluting her lover by blowing a kiss up at him. Shaking his head at the dramatics, Piers returned the salute with a small smile, as she slid onto the back and it drove off into the early morning traffic of London.

* * *

**More soon. The next oneshot will be called 'Out Of Office Hours'.**


End file.
